


Not Her Type

by lunardreamed



Series: This is a one night stand [1]
Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Gen, PWP, PWP without Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunardreamed/pseuds/lunardreamed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back in 2006, before the angst built up to epic levels, when Abby was a Goth forensics expert with an erratic relationship with Probie McGee and Dean was a skirt chasing demon-hunter working with his emo brother Sam, they met in a bar.  </p>
<p>Or: it's Dean and Abby, they scoff at plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Her Type

Abby glowered at the bar-top. Trust McGee to ruin what could have been a great evening.  
  
“Buy you a drink?” Abby glanced to her left to see a wrist encased in a broad, black leather band. That looked promising, but the rest of him, not so much. Steel-toed boots and a James Dean leather jacket. Wannabe macho guy, totally not her type. But free drinks were always good.  
  
“It’s your money.”  
  
“Boyfriend ruin your night?” he asks, signaling the bartender.  
  
“No,” she snaps. “I’m here for the ghost.”  
  
“I figured. Didn’t look like your kind of place.”  
  
Abby gives him an incredulous stare. This was how he picked up girls, by insulting their taste in bars? “What would you know about it?”  
  
“No Goths here before the rumors that the place was haunted.”  
  
“Sorry. Did the ghosts run off your usual bimbo type?”  
  
He laughs, and damn he looks good enough to jump right there. Too bad he’s an asshole. “Now you sound like my brother.”  
  
“Sure you wouldn’t rather chat him up? He might actually go home with you.”  
  
“Naw. Can’t tear Sammy away from his one true love.” He jerks his head over at a shaggy-haired guy frowning at his laptop.  
  
“So, he abandoned you to the ghost lovers, did he? That’s horrible.”  
  
“You think I can’t get along with ’em?”  
  
Abby raises an eyebrow challengingly in his direction. “I bet you don’t think there's a ghost.”  
  
“Actually, I suspect pissed off brownies.”  
  
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”  
  
“Missing things, stuff moving around, mechanical problems, all of it happens just before dawn. That’s brownies, not ghosts. They’re usually helpful little spirits, but the bar owner hasn’t been properly thankful – they like warm milk and shiny stuff, by the way – so now they’re making a nuisance of themselves.”  
  
Abby stares for a minute. She may have to reevaluate her opinion. This guy may totally be her type. He turns fully towards her. “Neat amulet.” What’ll he do with that?  
  
Another of those great smiles. “Kusarikku. Mesopotamian bull-man. It’s a symbol of protection; he helps people in the fight against the forces of evil and chaos.”  
  
“I thought for sure you were going to say it was for virility,” Abby says, moving into his space.  
  
“Think I need help there?” he asks, resting his hands, warm and heavy, on her hips.  
  
“One way to find out.” Abby tilts her face up towards his.  


* * *

“Look, Abby, I’m sorry I didn’t show, but could you give me the lab results before Gibbs kills me.”  
  
“Just take note McGee: Latin is my new kink.”  
  
 _fini_


End file.
